Love is Worth Each Tear of Blood
by Meep meep
Summary: Draco isn't looking for love, but tragedy brings him closer to a friend. After everything he's been through, can he brave a second love? Or is this world just too much for him? contains implied slash and some strong language.
1. He was my everything

Disclaimer: none of the familiar characters belong to me. I do lay claim to Leila, Jayla, Dylan and Erik. If you wish to use them, please ask first! Also this poem belongs to WH Auden, not me. It's called funeral blues, and I've only used the first 3 stanza's.

A.N. this does contain some strong language, slash references and other things. More may appear in later chapters, please don't get offended.

_Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone_

'Get out'

'But…please'

'Just… I loved you, I still love you, but damnit Harry! I can't cope with this, not right now.'

_Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone_

I point to the door. 'Out!' and he leaves. I go to check the children.

_Silence the pianos and with muffled drum,_

I slide down the doorframe. Shit but this has been difficult on us. But drunken Harry is not what I need.

Obsessively I go around the house. Straightening, cleaning. It doesn't need it, but on some strange level, I do.

_Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come._

I have a shower. 2 am and I'm showering. Oh well, I'm no longer grimy. And I don't smell like Harry vomit and beer anymore. You'd have thought with all the shit in my life right now, I'd be a wreck. 3 kids, 6, 5 and 3 to raise (none my own) along with the fourth 'child' Boy Wonder that is Harry.

_Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead_

It's often like this. I rarely sleep, but tonight (this morning?) is different. For some reason, tonight I feel I shouldn't sleep, rather than I can't.

_Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead_

And then he staggers back in.

'Potter I told you … oh God! Harry!'

Red. Red everywhere. Red on the walls and on the carpet. Red covering my arms as I move away to the phone.

_Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves_

They pronounced him dead at 3:14.

Harry. Dead. To survive the war only to die from a mugging. Too drunk to save his sorry ass.

I go home, check on the children. All asleep. I clean, scrubbing the red from the carpets and walls. Desperately removing all the traces of him from our bedroom. Boxes. A life described in labelled boxes: clothes, magazines, toys, books. All boxed away, hidden from view.

And the funeral. Oh god I hate funerals. Shouldn't think about that, but I'll always remember.

_Let traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves._

I'll have to talk to his friends. Granger, Weasley, Wod, Spinnet, Bell. His lovers, Ginny, Luna, Cho and Dean. And all the others. Names, faces blur in my mind. Address book…yes.

I shouldn't have let him go. I should've shoved him in the shower, forced water down him and carried him to the couch like I usually do.

I don't know why I couldn't do that tonight.

6 o'clock. Children waking – thank gods they have school. Where did the hours go? Could I have spent this long boxing his things? Remembering the story behind each and every item? Perhaps.

_He was my North, my South, my East and West_

I move to the kitchen, prepare breakfast. Every smell reminds me of him. The kitchen where he spent so much time, when he used to be sober. He was the better cook.

If I can't cook, they'll just have to cope with cheerios.

I notice the blood on my clothes. I run to our room, pull on the first things I lay my hands on. Black trousers, black shirt, black shoes.

7 o'clock. Wake children. I watch them clamber onto kitchen chairs.

Leila, six years old, was Pansy's girl. Pansy doted on her, the sun would rise I the west before Pansy would hurt her baby girl.

Pansy died 3 years ago, no one knows how.

Jayla, five last month, was Blaise's child. She got 2 years of his company before he died in a raid.

Dylan is 3, and never got to know his mother. Millie died in childbirth and his father was never identified.

Pansy's man, Thomas, died in the muggle killings.

Blaise's wife, Sasha, left straight after the birth, and Neville (Blaise's boyfriend) couldn't raise a child and do his job. He was the best Healer around, and died saving Harry's life.

So these children were passed onto me, responsible parent that I am.

They've learnt Harry is never at breakfast anymore, so for now I'm spared giving an explanation. Tonight, however, I will not be so lucky.

I take them to school, lost in memories. Daydreaming of the times before he changed.

_My working week and my Sunday rest_

Ginny is at the gates. Her son Erik attends this school.

'Where's the new man?' I ask. She sighs, half mocking sadness.

'Manless. And yourself? Where's yours?'

Silence. The kids enter the building.

'Walk with me.'

She follows me, listens as I unload last night. I can see the tears she's trying so hard to hide. She breaks down. I hold her close ssh-ing and soothing. But I don't tell her it'll be alright. It won't. We both know that.

_My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;_

Erik was his child. Harry's. aside from the boxes, that's all that's left of him.

'You can come round, if you'd like. Take some of his things.'

'You wouldn't mind?'

'Of course not. It's not like I can look at them.'

She smiles sadly, gives an 'I know the feeling' look. We walk.

_I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong._


	2. The brightest of Stars

We gathered them all, Ginny and I. everyone who ever meant a thing to Harry, huddled together like a cult in silent worship. As I walked among them, I hear the ripples of whispered conversations 'all his fault', 'good for nothing', 'traitor', 'Slytherin scum'. But worst of all: 'I bet it was him'.

Silence in the pews, an open invitation to speak for him. I can't go up there just yet, I just can't.

Hermione stands, and walks up to the coffin. She takes a deep breath, readies herself for the speech.

'Harry was a symbol, an idol, to so many. It's hard to lose that. But more than that, he was a friend, close to all. He was compassionate, a good listener, comforting. He was the brightest of stars, and a saviour. Some of you told me to add 'sexy'' there was a ripple of unsure laughter 'but better than that he had a beautiful soul, and that's rare. He told me once that he loved this poem. I think his exact words were 'it's so sad…I like it!' and I told him that I prayed it would never be used in reference to him. I guess those prayers fell short.'

She looked up at the people in front of her and steadied herself, bracing against the tears that were dangerously close to falling, and began to read.

'Do not stand by my grave and weep,

I am not there… I do not sleep.

I am the thousand winds that blow…

I am the diamond glints on snow…

I am the sunlight on ripened grain…

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you waken in the morning's hush,

I am the swift, uplifting rush

Of gentle birds in circling flight…

I am the soft star that shines at night.

Do not stand by my grave and cry –

I am not there… I did not die…'

She wiped her eyes and sat down. I get up.

'It's hard to say anything Hermione hasn't already covered. Harry wasn't perfect, but he was as near to it as any of us could ever hope to get. He once told me that he needed to write a will. I told him I hoped to God I'd never see it. His reply was 'Hell yeah, I'm going to live forever man! But just in case…' And in a way, he was right. No one in this room will ever forget him, no matter how hard they try. The world will remember his legacy; his name will be spoken in History of Magic. Perhaps the students will even listen.

But whatever Harry was to each of you, he'll remain in your hearts, and in the hearts of wizard-kind, forever. And it's in this way that he'll be immortalised. As a saviour, an idol, a brother and a friend.'

I was crying but it didn't matter. So was everyone else in the room.

When they lit the pyre, I cried even harder.

I watched long after most had left, one of the few of his Inner Circle who were all standing round the fire, watching the embers glow and the last of the sparks burn out.

Ginny clung to me like a life-line, holding me close while entranced by the pyre. Like us, Hermione and Ron were holding each other up, like the gentlest of touches would send them crashing to the ground. The other Weasleys, sans Percy, stood together – Bill holding onto Fleur, Charlie to Tonks, the twins to each other.

Remus stood alone. I felt I should go to him, but I had no words for him. Nothing to ease his pain. So instead I just watched him watching the embers. He looked up and nodded, I nodded back. I know what he's going through, just as he does for me. He'd lost the love of his life, and I've just lost mine. Now he'd lost the only link to his friends, his family, to be consumed by the blaze. I'd lost all my friends too.

They say time's a healer, but they're wrong. Remus John Lupin is living proof of that. The ache from losing Sirius still burns in him, and each day he survives through is like rubbing salt in the wound. Time doesn't deaden the pain. Nothing can do that.

It's started to rain. Heavily. It doesn't take long before we're all soaked, but no one moves. The fire burns on. Ginny shivers in my arms, so I pull her closer. She needs the warmth more than I do.

My hair drips into my eyes, blurring my vision. I blink rapidly, and the fire is out. The man comes and collects the ashes. The body of my lover, tucked away into an urn. People start leaving, until only Ginny and I remain, staring at the spot. I kiss her forehead.

'We should probably leave' I murmur into her hair.

'Yeah' she whispers, so quiet I barely hear her.

We look at the spot for another few minutes, before I pick up the urn and we leave.

I walk her to her door, still soaked to the bone.

'Goodnight Ginny'

'Try and get some sleep, Draco' she replies.

'Yeah I will' we both know I'm lying 'you too.'

I turn and walk away, off down the street. The whole way I can feel her eyes burning into my back. I know now that Ginny is fast becoming my only friend, my best friend. Fast becoming one of very few people who understand me.


End file.
